


And all the rest's illusion

by yourbuttervoicedbeau (kiwiana)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: It's really just musings on identity and community, M/M, POV Patrick Brewer, Queer Culture, Queer Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-14 08:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29664393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwiana/pseuds/yourbuttervoicedbeau
Summary: The first time David uses the word 'queer' to refer to him, it brings Patrick up short.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 126
Kudos: 336





	And all the rest's illusion

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes I just need to word vomit all my Queer Feelings somewhere!
> 
> A quick note: there is a reference/allusion in this fic to Patrick initially thinking he might be bisexual after he met David, before realising he's gay. As a Real Life Pansexual I want to make it really clear that I **do not believe** bisexuality or any other m-spec identities are a stepping stone to being gay -- however, that **is** a journey some actual, real life people go on, including two people very close to me, and more importantly I can see it as a journey Patrick might have gone on. It's something Patrick is musing about thinking in the past, not a journey he goes through during the timeframe of the fic itself, so it's one paragraph max. However, if reading that isn't something you're comfortable doing, just skip the paragraph that begins "When he’d first realised his feelings for David were more than a platonic admiration for his business model..." (the third paragraph of the fic). 💙 
> 
> Thank you so much to Januarium and Nontoxic for reading over this for me and saying far too many nice things 😘 
> 
> Title is from Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

The first time David uses the word _queer_ to refer to him, it brings Patrick up short.

“She seemed kind of hesitant at first, but I slipped into the conversation that the store’s run by two queer men and she was a lot more open to listening to my pitch, at least. So, we’ll see. Oh! Also, I stopped by the Mennonites and managed to sweet talk them out of a few offcuts of their peanut butter squares.” Having sufficiently distracted himself with food, David jumps back off the couch to rummage through his bag and doesn’t appear to notice the way Patrick is rooted to the spot, his pulse rushing in his ears as he parses what David just said seemingly without thought.

When he’d first realised his feelings for David were more than a platonic admiration for his business model, Patrick has spent weeks coming to terms with the fact that he was bisexual, and accepting it. It had made a few things clearer in retrospect — sports idols he could now recognise as crushes, his friendship with Ashton Sanders in grade ten that had gotten really intense and then fizzled out over the summer when Ashton had gone away to camp.

He’d had to reevaluate all over again when David had kissed him in his car after his birthday and rewritten his entire understanding of physical attraction.

Still, that had all made _sense._ It was like a checklist he could work through: you’re attracted to this and not that, so gay is the right word for you. And with that, he had been able to make a lot of things in his past click into place alongside that new knowledge — not least, how things had never quite fit with Rachel no matter how good they were together on paper. So even if he doesn’t use the word that often, even if the _David_ part seems more important than the label part on a day-to-day basis… it’s still there, a quiet undercurrent of truth. Patrick Brewer is gay. Great. Done.

Queer is… different. It’s nebulous and confusing, and, well, _loud._ Rainbow flags and glitter and Rocky Horror and marching down the city streets loud. And no one’s ever looked at Patrick — no one’s ever _going_ to look at Patrick, with his mid-range jeans and his business shirts and his cropped hair — and think to themselves, _there goes a queer man._

And that’s really the crux of the issue, because it’s not that he’s uncomfortable in his sexuality. If he was, that would be easier to explain — right from the start, David never put a label onto him. Patrick was the one who’d whispered _I’m gay_ into the sliver of space between them that night at Stevie’s, and David had just given him the same easy smile and nod that Patrick’s sure he would have received if instead his declaration had been _I’m bi_ or _I’m pan_ or _I don’t know right now._ His discomfort is more of a nagging, deep-seated fear that he’s not _entitled_ to queer; that because he’s never been called a slur or worried about whether or not it was safe to kiss his partner in public or even _come out to his parents,_ the word isn’t his to reclaim.

David settles in next to him with a cautious, sideways smile, and Patrick shoves his unease away in favour of climbing into David’s lap, taking advantage of a rare Ray-free house in the best way he knows how.

It’s something to pull apart and examine later. Right now, he has a much more appealing option.

* * *

Patrick can’t sleep.

He should be knocked out, after a spectacular orgasm and David’s face resting in the crook of his neck, but instead he can’t stop thinking about the goddamn word _queer._ He’s barely even told anyone he’s gay — just David and Rachel, really. Everyone in town obviously knows he’s not straight, given how many of them have walked in on the two of them necking in the store, but that’s not the same thing as knowing he’s gay specifically. Did they assume so, before Rachel came to town? Do they now assume he’s pan, like David? Does he even feel a deep-seated, burning need for people to know, or is the fact that he and David are together enough? Is queer—

“You’re thinking very loudly, honey.” The words are muffled, mumbled into his neck, and Patrick winces even as he brings his hand up to stroke gently through David’s hair.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Mm.” David slips his hand under Patrick’s shirt and rests it on his stomach, the touch surprisingly grounding. “I’m very familiar with loud late-night thoughts. You can share them, if you want.”

Patrick sucks a deep breath in through his nose, feeling the pads of David’s fingertips shift slightly as his hand moves up and down along with the breath. He opens his mouth to say that he’s fine, that they should go back to sleep, but something else falls out entirely.

“So, you’re pansexual, right?”

Tucked as David is into his side, Patrick can feel the way he tenses. “Mm-hmm.” He pulls away a little. “Not gay now I’m with you, not straight when I was with Stevie. Pan.”

“Oh my god, David, that’s not what I was—” Guilt floods through him as he realises how David’s interpreted his cautious question. He pulls himself up to sit against the headboard, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “Shit, I’m going about this all wrong.”

David peers up at him cautiously before he sits up as well, cross-legged on the bed and facing Patrick. His mouth is still thinner than Patrick would like, but his eyes are warm. “Okay…”

“I just…” Patrick turns the jumbled mess of thoughts over in his head, trying to morph them into some semblance of coherence. “You’re pansexual, but then today you called yourself queer. And I don’t…” He trails off, frustrated by his inability to put his confusion into words.

Before he can try again, David purses his lips, folding his hands together on his lap. It’s rare for him to visibly put this much thought into what he says, and Patrick doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath in anticipation until David starts to speak.

“It’s like... pan is the specifics.” He stops, unclenching his hands so that he can wave one in front of his face as though trying to erase the words off an invisible whiteboard. “Or, okay, maybe not _particularly_ specific, in my case, but— pan is about _me._ Queer is… the whole community, all the shared history, all the… everything. It’s the common thread between me and you and lesbians and trans people and asexuals and everyone else under the flag, and the people who don’t know what they are but they know it’s not straight or cis—” David’s hands are starting to flail and he takes a breath, deliberately clasping them again. “It’s a whole lot of different experiences and different struggles, but under this common umbrella of, like, learning to walk around in a world that wasn’t designed to let us be who we are. And all the people who did that before us.”

Patrick nods slowly. It’s not really the question he was trying to ask, but it does crack something open, spilling a little bit of light onto why David used it the way he did. He lets the silence stretch out between them, trying to articulate what he wants to ask next.

“So, was the issue really that I called _myself_ queer, or that I called _you_ queer?”

Patrick freezes, eyes wide, as David’s mouth twists to the side.

“Mm. Okay.” He shuffles up the bed until he’s sitting next to Patrick, and then he tugs gracelessly at Patrick’s waist until Patrick takes the hint and rests his head on David’s shoulder as David presses a kiss into his hair.

“Not everybody loves the word.” His voice is soft, gentle, and Patrick closes his eyes and lets it wash over him. “It’s got baggage, like a lot of terms we’ve used over the years. If you don’t want me to call you queer, then I won’t. It’s that simple.”

Patrick doesn’t want to nod or shake his head, because… well, he wishes it _were_ that simple. After a few seconds with no response, David continues — and reminds Patrick yet again that he can be incredibly observant when he wants to be.

“But, to be super clear, it’s your word as much as it is mine. You don’t need anyone’s permission to be queer, or to use queer.”

Patrick lets out a deep, shuddering breath as David hums, obviously pleased to have hit the nail on the head. “It’s just—” He clears his throat, suddenly grateful for the position David moved them into earlier, so that he can say this without making eye contact. “It feels like— like I’m being a fraud, I guess. What’s queer about Levi’s and button downs and my baseball uniform?”

“Mmkay, well first of all, almost all the shirts you own are button _ups_ and I _know_ we’ve talked about this.” David huffs, petulant, but Patrick can hear the smile behind it. “Second of all, they’re queer because the person wearing them is queer. And third of all, hello? Elton John’s baseball costume at Dodger Stadium? Are you really going to tell me _that_ iconic look wasn’t queer as fuck?”

Patrick laughs, some of the tension seeping out of his shoulders at the raw indignation in David’s tone. “You raise a valid point, David.”

“Of course I do.”

“Gives me hope that I’ll be able to get you into a baseball uniform one day.”

“Mm, you can keep hoping, honey.” David’s laugh is warm in Patrick’s ear, before it fades away into something a little more serious. “I’ve gotten used to using queer as the umbrella term over the years. The acronym doesn’t quite trip off the tongue as easily. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop.”

“No.” Patrick surprises himself with how quickly the answer springs to his lips. “I don’t need you to stop.”

“Okay.” David kisses him, quick and chaste but still in a way that makes Patrick want to surge into it despite how late it is and how much he’s going to regret being awake this late in the morning. He pulls away reluctantly, lying back down and waiting for David to settle in beside him.

Their breathing is just starting to even out when David whispers: “You can change your mind, though, if you decide you’re not comfortable with it. Anytime.”

“I know.” He doesn’t know, yet, whether he’ll settle into queer. But he knows David would never do anything to make him uncomfortable. More to the point, he knows he’s _allowed_ to be queer — he trusts David, when David says the word is for him. He can be gay _and_ queer, and that’s… well. He’s not sure what it is, yet, but he knows there’s something freeing in it. “Thank you, David.”

All he gets is a light snore in response.

He smiles, and closes his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Come and find me on [Tumblr](http://yourbuttervoicedbeau.tumblr.com/).


End file.
